


Going Nowhere

by Ionaonie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (but not referring to Derek/Stiles), Consent Issues, Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Pre-Relationship, Set after the end of season 4, Traumatized Derek, Traumatized Stiles, season 4 speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:39:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2130528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ionaonie/pseuds/Ionaonie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been nearly a week since the shit had hit the fan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> After 404 (or maybe 405?) this popped into my head and I promptly wrote it and then forgot all about it. 
> 
> Like the one before it, I'm not entirely sure how to tag it, so if you feel like I missed something, let me know.
> 
> Title comes from an Oasis song. 
> 
> Betaed by the wonderful Arineat. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

It had been nearly a week since the shit had hit the fan. 

Gerard was dead. So were Kate and Peter. Deaton was in the wind with a lot of Hale money, Braeden with him. Siles had no idea what had happened to Morrell. He didn’t think anyone did.

Braeden had killed the very human Derek, then taken a few very purposeful steps towards Stiles, who hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from Derek’s lifeless body…

Only for a massive black wolf to appear out of nowhere and tackle her to the ground, Cora hot on its heels. 

Stiles had still been staring unblinkingly at Derek’s body when he’d realised he could hear Derek’s voice, feel his hands on him. It had taken him a long, dazed moment to realise that the big fuck-off wolf had been Derek and when it had hit him that Derek was somehow, inexplicably alive, Stiles had thrown himself at Derek, uncaring of the fact that he was crying and Derek had been naked. 

But all that had been a week ago and he hadn’t seen head nor tail of Derek since. 

So Stiles got in his jeep, and was heading over to Derek’s to get some answers. 

To Stiles’ surprise, it had been Cora who had texted him a few days ago to say that Derek was staying at the loft. The fucking loft that had so many bad memories. Stiles was getting Derek out of there as quickly as he could. 

It took him several minutes of sitting in the car, staring up at the loft before Stiles was able to force himself to get out the car, although he used the time well, texting his dad to tell him where he was. Quietly closing the door, his legs felt like lead and putting one foot in front of the other was nearly impossible. What if Derek didn’t want to see him? What if Derek blamed him for leaving him in Mexico? For not realising that Derek hadn’t really been Derek? 

He nearly turned back at least half a dozen times. He stumbled up the stairs, half because of the exhaustion he was fighting and half because his body kept trying to turn back. 

The door, much to Stiles’ surprise was actually locked. And, despite his indecision on the way up, that pissed him off. He’d got this far. He was going to talk to Derek, dammit. 

‘Derek, let me in. I’m just going to sit out here until you do. I… I need to see you.’ What he didn’t say was that he needed to see Derek to make sure that he was really still alive and it wasn’t something Stiles had made up in his head. 

He was about ten seconds from banging on the door when it opened slowly, revealing a worn out and disheveled Derek. He was wearing a worn looking sweater and it was pulled down over his hands, along with soft-looking sleep pants. His eyes were stark and he was blinking in the light. His beard had seen better days and his hair was longer than Stiles had ever seen it. 

‘You look about as shitty as I feel,’ Stiles said, shouldering past Derek, too nervous to wait to be invited in just in case Derek told him to go away. It took him a second to remember that Derek was a werewolf again - or still a werewolf; he was fuzzy on the details - and if he didn’t want Stiles there, Stiles wouldn’t be there.

‘You look awful,’ Derek said flatly.

‘Said the pot to the kettle.’

Derek didn’t even roll his eyes. ‘Why are you here, Stiles?’ 

Stiles shifted from foot to foot and twisted his hand in the hem of his red hoodie, not quite sure how to put it into words and scared that if he started talking about how scary his thoughts were at the moment, he’d never stop. ‘I… I needed to know...’ He trailed off, wrapping his arms around himself.

Honestly, he half expected Derek to push him back out the door, so he was extra surprised when Derek reached forward, snagged the front of Stiles’ hoodie and pulled him further into the room, shutting the door. 

‘What happened? How are you not dead? Why was Cora with you?’ Stiles glanced around the loft, wincing when he saw the broken window from when Kate’s berserkers had attacked Scott and Kira. At least the glass had been cleared away. ‘Why isn’t she with you now?’ 

Derek’s entire body stiffened and the air around him went from resigned to defensive in less than a second. ‘She went back,’ The words were bitten off and Stiles only nodded, not wanting to risk saying something that hurt Derek more. 

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Stiles -’

‘Please.’ He ignored the way his voice broke. ‘I feel like I’m losing my mind here. I… I don’t know if you’re real or if I made you up in my head so you’re not dead.’ He grabbed Derek’s hand and counted off the fingers, sighing when he got the right number. ‘You’re really real.’

Gently, Derek pulled his hand from Stiles’. ‘If I wasn’t real how were you saved?’ 

Stiles shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’ 

Derek stared at him for a moment before he turned and made his way over to the kitchenette. ‘Come on,’ he said over his shoulder. 

Not about to question his luck, Stiles followed. He wrapped an arm around his stomach and chewed on his thumb as he watched Derek make them both hot chocolate. It was weirdly soothing watching Derek do something so normal. 

When Stiles wrapped his hands around the warm mug Derek handed him, and smelt the chocolate, he couldn’t hold back the moan that slipped past his lips. 

Derek leaned against the counter opposite Stiles and watched as he took a tentative sip before drinking his own. ‘I was in Mexico,’ he finally said, voice rough. ‘I was there until Cora freed me a few days ago.’ 

‘Shit.’ 

‘Cora told me you all tried to rescue me,’ Derek said quietly. 

Stiles felt tears form in his eyes and he tried to blink them away. ‘Derek, I’m so, so sorry…’ He trailed off as Derek shook his head. 

‘It wasn’t your fault. It was a copy. A good copy, according to Cora. Meant to fool Kate and everyone else. You weren’t supposed to know it wasn’t really me.’

‘But how was there another you? Who -’

Derek’s mouth went pinched, his expression sour. ‘I don’t know. Cora won’t tell me.’ 

‘Oh. Uh, okay. Any theories?’ 

‘Other than they didn’t want Kate to get her hands on me? No.’

‘Maybe they were trying to help?’ Stiles suggested, because what bad guy would care that Kate had her hands all over Derek again? ‘Perhaps they thought they were doing something good.’ 

‘Nothing good happens to me,’ Derek said flatly, making something ache deep in Stiles’ chest at Derek’s acceptance of that. ‘What happened here?’ 

Stiles snorted. ‘I don’t even know where to begin.’ He fell quiet and Derek didn’t push him and they drank their hot chocolate. ‘We have a dragon, you know,’ he finally said. 

‘We what?’ 

‘Well, half-dragon, really. On his mother’s side. Parrish. Deputy at the sheriff’s department.’ 

‘Is he on our side?’ 

Stiles didn’t really know who was on who’s side anymore, but he did know that he and Derek were on the same side, so he nodded.

‘How do we know?’ 

‘He saved my dad from a burning inferno and is the one hunting down Deucalion, so yeah, I think he’s a good guy.’

‘Okay.’ 

‘And he won’t let Deucalion go.’ 

Derek flinched. ‘Stiles, I -’

Stiles waved him off. ‘You’d never have convinced Scott, you know that. Don’t sweat it. Even after he nearly killed Melissa, Scott still hesitated.’ 

‘It’s not easy, killing someone,’ Derek said quietly. 

‘I could have done it,’ Stiles said flatly. ‘For my dad. I’d have done it.’ 

Derek pushed off the counter and took the few steps that brought him in front of Stiles. ‘I know you would have.’

‘But Scott just watched. He couldn’t _do_ anything. If Kira hadn’t been there...’ If Kira and then Cora hadn’t teamed up and kept Deucalion away from Melissa they’d probably all be going to a funeral right now. 

‘I know.’ 

Derek settled next to Stiles, shoulders pressed together. For the last week Stiles hadn’t been able to deal with anyone touching him, not even his dad, but Derek was a solid, comforting heat at his side. He sagged slightly, letting Derek take some of his weight. 

‘How’s Scott doing?’ Derek asked after a few minutes of quiet. 

‘From what I hear he feels pretty dumb for falling for all the True Alpha bullshit that Peter and Deaton had peddled in his direction over the last few months. But at the moment he’s too worried about Melissa to really think about it.’ 

‘How is she?’ 

‘No longer critical,’ Stiles said, sighing. ‘But still in hospital.’ For some reason Deucalion had brought a gun to a claws and fangs party and so Melissa, while recovering from a gunshot wound, wasn’t in any danger of becoming a werewolf. 

‘That’s good.’ 

Stiles nodded. 'His dad's there, too.'

'Good thing or bad?'

'Hard to say at this juncture.' Agent Douchebag had hardly moved from Melissa’s side, apparently, but Stiles was going to wait to see if he stuck around before deciding if it was a guilt thing or not. 

'Got it.'

'Lydia's with Scott.' Kira's parents pretty much had her under house arrest, otherwise Stiles was sure she’d be there, too. 

'Okay.' There was no judgement in Derek’s voice, which made it easier to keep talking.

'I can't be. Not yet. I'm so mad at him and so tired. I feel like I’m unravelling and I can't be what he needs right now.'

Lydia wasn't really in a much better state than he was, truth be told, but her mom hadn't nearly died because of Scott's tunnel vision and inability to spot consequences that lurked around every corner. Instead her mom was with them at the hospital, helping to keep Scott together while Stiles' dad was out on patrol at least a week too early because Parrish was the only one they could send after Deucalion. 

'There's no rule that says you have to be.'

'Then why do I feel shitty about if?'

'Because you never put yourself first and it feels wrong when you do.'

Stiles thought the words over, played about with them in his head before he nodded. 'Sounds like the voice of experience, there.'

'Probably,' Derek agreed, but he didn't expand and Stiles didn't push. With everything he knew and had guessed about Derek's past, he really didn't have to. 

'I think having his dad there also gives him something other than Liam to worry about.'

'Liam?' Derek asked, picking up their empty mugs and walking over to the sink to deposit them there. 

When he settled back next to Stiles, closer than before, Stiles spoke. 

'I keep forgetting that just because I saw your face around doesn't mean you were actually here and know what happened. Liam was a kid in our school that Scott bit.'

'Scott _bit_ someone?' The incredulity in Derek’s voice nearly made Stiles laugh and Stiles hadn’t felt like laughing for a while now.

'Don’t worry, dude. I got you covered on the hypocrisy thing,' Stiles assured him. ‘I nearly broke my eyes, I rolled them so hard.’

'How? Why? What?'

Stiles got it. He'd never thought Scott would bite anyone either.

‘So, he bit Liam so he wouldn’t die when he fell off the school roof -’

Derek looked so bewildered that Stiles nudged him. ‘Just go with it, dude. Anyway, this is where it gets good.’

The way Derek’s eyebrows nearly left his head was so comical, Stiles couldn’t stop the way he huffed in amusement. 

'So, he bit Liam before he fell of the roof, then kidnapped him, duct-taped him, hid him in his bathroom overnight and then called me.'

Derek rubbed a hand over his face and groaned. 'Jesus.'

Stiles snorted. 

'I'm too tired to deal with this shit,' Derek sighed. 

‘At least you’re not too old for this shit,’ Stiles said. 

Derek bumped his head gently against Stiles’. ‘Shut up. Then what happened?’

'He gave a nice little speech about how the bite is a gift.'

Derek made a disparaging noise. 

'Yeah, I thought that sounded like you. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume it sounds more convincing when you actually mean it.'

'Yeah. So what happened?'

'We thought he had control, but, uh, we were wrong.’ Stiles took a deep breath and forced the words out. ‘He went for this kid from another school, mauled him to death right in front of his best friend, who is now traumatised for life.'

When he could, Stiles was going to go and see Mason. Try and convince him that what happened with Liam was a horrible accident and that most werewolves were better behaved than that. He half wanted to take Derek with him, but couldn't decide if that would make the situation better or worse. Maybe he’d ask Derek what he thought later. 

'He was about to attack Mason when Chris Argent took him down.' Stiles pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes, trying to unsee the images of blood and gore. It had been so much worse than when Peter had gutted Derek or attacked Lydia. 

'Where was Scott?'

Derek’s voice was calm and Stiles latched onto it, finally able to push the images away.

'Not there.' He frowned. Now that he thought about it, Stiles didn’t think he’d ever actually asked Scott where he’d been while that was happening. 'And I haven't seen Chris Argent since he killed Gerard.'

'He went back to France.'

'Seriously?' Although, what was left for him in Beacon Hills? 

'His mother lives there and is perfectly sane. He left Isaac with her and now he's going back.'

'How do you know that?'

'He came and saw me before he left. Said no one will come after me for Kate's death.'

‘Like fuck they will,’ Stiles said fiercely, because _no-one_ was going to kill Derek in front of him ever again. Ever. ‘If they even think about it, I’ll kill them myself.’ 

Derek’s entire body moved on the spot, like maybe he’d been about to hug Stiles, but had stopped himself at the last second. Stiles really wished he hadn’t. 

‘How are you after the nogitsune?’ 

Just hearing Derek ask made relief seep into his bones and turn him slightly boneless.

While they’d been searching for Derek, Stiles had sometimes found himself wondering what it would be like to tell Derek about it, being possessed by the nogitsune, watching himself do terrible things to people he cared about and the crippling guilt it had left him with. If anyone could understand the contradictory emotions swirling around in his head, it was Derek. 

Then, once he seemed to be himself again, Derek had seemed less than interested in Stiles and it had been like a physical blow to the sternum, leaving Stiles without air. 

Stiles took a shaky breath and curled his hands into fists. He should have known the other Derek was an imposter when it hadn’t asked about the nogitsune. Instead he’d been hurt by Derek’s apparent lack of interest and and had done his best to ignore it and push it to the back of his brain. Trying not to think about it had been part of the reason he’d focused on trying to help Malia. Making it an all round epic clusterfuck of a situation. 

‘I… I don’t really know. I didn’t exactly have a lot of time to think about what it made me do before -’

‘The succubus.’ 

Stiles shuddered, his skin crawling. Malia Tate might have been a pretty face, but the succubus wearing that face hadn’t been. Malia had, apparently, left Beacon Hills with her dad after shifting back to human. The Malia he had encountered in Echo House hadn’t been Malia at all. All the sleep deprivation had made him susceptible and he’d been an easy target. Occasionally he’d thought it weird that they never saw her dad, but the succubus’ sway over him meant he never voiced the thought to anyone. 

'I really hope Parrish burns Deucalion to a crisp.' He winced, realising what he'd said and who he'd said it to. 'Sorry.'

Derek waved it off. 'What’s Malia got to do with Deucalion?'

'She was his plant, yeah?'

Derek nodded. 

'She was...' It was all he could do not to gag, the hot chocolate sitting heavy in his stomach suddenly. 'She was also my first.'

He could feel her hands, her tongue on his skin, moving down his body and his vision greyed out a bit, his knees feeling like they were no longer attached to his legs. 

Suddenly he was on the floor with no memory of how he'd got there. His breathing was ragged and he felt hot all over. 

Derek was sitting to the side of him, and Stiles had the feeling his reflexes were why Stiles hadn’t fallen. He was sitting cross-legged, frowning deeply. Catching Stiles' eye, he extended his hand, stopping before he touched Stiles. 'Can I?'

Stiles nodded, eyes swimming with tears. 

Slowly, so Stiles could pull away probably, Derek wrapped his hand gently around Stiles' wrist. Although he’d been expecting it, the touch made Stiles’ entire body jolt, but Derek’s hand was warm and it felt _safe_ and Stiles felt more grounded than he had in a while. 

'Stiles, listen to my voice.'

Stiles nodded. 'This wasn't supposed to happen,' he said between breaths. 'I've been trying not to think about it.'

'That doesn't work.'

Stiles nearly demanded how Derek would know that, when, yeah. Derek would definitely know that. 

'What should I do instead?'

'For the time being, breathe. Slowly. In and out. Breathe with me.'

Stiles couldn't say how long they sat there, but eventually he felt slightly more put together, although he was still shaking minutely.

'You should talk to someone,' Derek said, fingers still a reassuring pressure around his wrist. 'Eventually.'

'Did you?'

Derek shook his head. 'That's how I know you should. Not talking about it, burying it. Doesn't help. You end up making it worse.'

‘I can’t talk about it yet.’

‘You don’t have to,’ Derek assured him. ‘Just don’t not think about it.’ 

‘I don’t think that made sense,’ Stiles told him. ‘But okay.’

‘Obviously it made sense to you.’ 

‘Shut up,’ Stiles grumbled. The floor was cold under him and his butt was going numb, but he didn’t feel like moving. 

‘Have you slept?’ Derek asked.

‘What?’ 

‘Have you slept since I last saw you?’ 

‘You mean since you saved my life?’ 

‘Yeah.’

‘As a wolf?’ 

‘Yes, Stiles. Since then.’ Derek’s voice was slightly exasperated and Stiles couldn’t help but grin.

‘Dude, you were an actualfax wolf. A giant wolf.’

Derek’s ears pinked. 

‘It was too awesome and you’re telling me all about it later. I need to know all the details.’ 

‘Okay,’ Derek said, surprising Stiles. ‘Now, have you been sleeping?’

‘God, you’re like a dog with a bone,’ Stiles groaned, but he shook his head, way too tired in every way to try and lie to Derek. ‘An hour here, an hour there. I don’t. My nightmares feel too real.’

Derek nodded. ‘I can’t sleep either,’ he said. ‘Every time I close my eyes I think I’m going to be back in that tomb.’ He paused, eyes getting a far off look. ‘Or with Kate.’

‘Probably explains why we both look like shit,’ Stiles said, because the Kate stuff was too much of a minefield for him to navigate on zero sleep. But he did lean in and bump his nose against Derek’s shoulder, just to let him know that Stiles got it. 

Derek snorted. He rolled to his feet and before Stiles had time to be confused about the sudden burst of action, Derek extended his hand to Stiles, face expectant. 

Not quite knowing what to expect, Stiles let himself be pulled to his feet. He didn't think Derek was about to throw him out after a panic attack, so he was curious. 

'Come on,' Derek said. 'You aren't driving home like this.'

'But my dad -' 

'Is on his shift, but call him if you need to. Something tells me he'd be happy that you're not driving in this state.'

Stiles glanced down to see his hands still shaking and he shoved them into his pockets. 'No, he knows where I am.'

'Good.' With a hand to the small of Stiles' back, Derek directed him over to the bed. 

Confused, Stiles glanced from the messed up bed to Derek. 'Uh -'

'You need to sleep.'

'I'm not the only one.'

'I can take the couch.'

Without really meaning to, Stiles fisted his hand in Derek’s sweater, absently noting that it was even softer than it looked, stopping him from moving away. 

‘I, uh, I -’ He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his skin flush hot and red. ‘I can’t - I need -’ There were so many thoughts colliding in his head that he just couldn’t get them out. 

Derek’s hand settled over his and slowly he loosened Stiles’ fingers so they let go. But he didn’t move away. ‘Are you sure you want me that close?’ 

‘Yes.’

‘Even after -’

‘You’re nothing like her,’ Stiles said, eyes firmly on where Derek was running his thumb back and forth over his knuckles. ‘I never felt safe with her.’ 

When he really thought about it he hadn’t felt safe ever since he’d found out Derek and Cora had left town. But that was a whole other can of worms for another day. 

‘Okay. Let me grab you some clothes. Jeans aren’t the comfiest to fall asleep in.’ 

Stiles snorted. ‘Don’t I know it.’ 

After digging about in his chest of drawers, Derek disappeared to potter around in the kitchenette while Stiles pulled on a soft pair of sleeping pants that would have been in danger of falling past his hips if not for the drawstring. Even then they sat dangerously low, but Stiles didn’t care because they were the first thing that had felt good against his skin in weeks. 

Stiles had just pulled off his many layers of shirts and t-shirts when Derek reappeared and, looking him up and down, frowned unhappily. 

‘What?’ 

‘Tomorrow I’m buying you dinner.’ 

Stiles hastily pulled on the t-shirt Derek had given him.

‘You don’t look bad,’ Derek said. ‘Just… spread thin. Food will help. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but it will.’ 

Stiles just nodded because there wasn’t really anything he could say to that. 

‘Come on,’ Derek said, pulling back the covers. ‘Get in.’ 

Stiles did just that, groaning as he sank into the mattress. It felt divine. 

It took a couple of minutes for them both to get comfortable, but eventually they ended up curled around each other, Stiles’ face pressed into the crook of Derek’s neck. 

‘Better?’ he murmured into Stiles’ hair. 

Stiles nodded sleepily. 

He felt Derek’s grip on his hip tightened and he relaxed further. He wasn’t going anywhere that night. Neither of them were. 

‘Hey,’ he slurred, right on the edge of oblivion. ‘While you buy me dinner, we’re looking for a new place for you.’ Before Derek could voice the protest Stiles could feel brewing, he pushed at Derek’s chest. ‘Uh-nuh. You got most of the money back. It’s yours. Your family would want you to use it to buy a place with no bad memories.’ 

That used up the last of his energy, but as everything went black he swore he felt Derek’s arm tighten around him, cheek rubbing against Stiles’ temple as he nodded.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to follow me, I'm on Tumblr at ionaonie.tumblr.com


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